


Whistling

by certifiedtragedy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Very angst, anyway this fic got edited like, but don't worry it's not graphic or anything, by 3 different people so, idk cry i guess, if this flops i'll, so death alert ig, there's... death but i also don't wanna spoil fuck, this fic is very dry and gray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedtragedy/pseuds/certifiedtragedy
Summary: "Worlds apart we were the same,Until you hit the ground.Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m weak,Maybe I’m blinded by what I see,You wanted a soldier but it wasn't me,'Cause I could never set you free.So fly on your own,It’s time I let you go."- Theory of a Deadman, 'Angel'Or, 5 time Cas could've and 1 time Cas couldn't.





	Whistling

**Author's Note:**

> before we start, i've mentioned this fanwork was edited by 3 people right? so i'd like to thank them, authorsarayrayne, petrichoravellichor, and queenofbooknerds on tumblr for reading through my writing 😔✊💕 thank you guys sm!!!
> 
> happy reading!!

The first time Cas heard it was on a surprisingly normal day.

 

He was walking past Dean’s room. There were no cases, nothing to clean, no supplies to replace. He was actually looking for Dean when he heard it.

 

_Whistling._

 

It was perfect. The song wasn’t anything Cas recognized, but the melody was soft, the way one note transitioned into another, smooth and flawless. Cas paused, almost peeking through the slightly open door to call out to Dean before deciding against it.

 

Standing outside Dean’s room, Cas indulged himself in a few more seconds of Dean’s mellow tune that reminded him so much of home, before moving back down the hallway.

  
  
  


The second time Cas heard it, he was on his way to the kitchen.

 

As he passed by, he noticed Dean’s door was cracked just a bit wider than before. This time, Cas gave in to temptation and peered into the room. Dean was sitting up on his bed, eyes resting. He was leaning back against his headboard, headphones on as he listened to a song on his phone. His lips were pursed in tune and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in time with the differing notes. Cas couldn’t help but admire the picture before him.

 

Without warning, Dean's eyes fluttered open and the music ceased.

 

Cas's heart jumped into his throat. He quickly pulled back, but he could swear, just for a moment, that Dean had seen him. But then, to his delight and surprise, Dean started again. Cas couldn’t help the very human sigh of relief that escaped him. With the new goal of finding out the song in mind, Cas headed back to the library, his previous goal forgotten.

  
  
  


The third time Cas heard it, he was sitting in his room, just down the hall from Dean’s.

 

They were alone in the bunker, so Dean must’ve left his door open wider than he usually did. At first, Cas didn’t recognize the song until Dean hit the chorus. Then, the now-familiar tune reached into his chest and grabbed his heart. As if by instinct, his body got up and followed the melodic call. When he reached Dean’s room, he found the doorway almost halfway open, as he’d suspected.

 

Cas didn’t have to peer into the room anymore to know how Dean was sitting, what he looked like when he whistled: posture relaxed, body slumped, guard down. The notes sometimes changed rapidly and at other times, they dragged on. They felt sad yet strangely fitting, and Cas’s urge to find out the name of the song strengthened.

 

In the midst of listening and letting his mind wander at the soul-awakening score, Cas let his head rest on the wall behind him, thumping against the painted stone. The sound echoed, and Cas froze before quickly heading back to his own room.

  
  
  


The fourth time was in the middle of the night about a month later. A sudden onslaught of cases had finally died down and they’d caught up on all the necessary household errands.  

 

After hanging out with Cas in the library for a while after a particularly bad nightmare, Dean had finally decided to go back to bed. He bade Cas goodnight and Cas did the same, turning back to the book he had opened before Dean had joined him at the table.

 

Cas didn’t hear it at first. The faint whistling bounced off of the hallway walls as his mind wandered elsewhere, but the well-known tune now sparked an unmistakable feeling of security.

 

After a moment, Cas got up, his book forgotten and followed the trail Dean took to his room. Dean’s door was almost completely wide open, something he rarely did when Sam and Jack were both sleeping, so as not to disturb them.

 

Unused to the open door, Cas almost walked right into the room before quickly stepping back into the shadows the doorframe provided for him. He rested his head against the wall, gently this time, as he listened to the song. The whistling faded to a warm hum for a bit, pulling him out of his whistle-hearing-reverie in time to catch Dean let a few words slip out.

 

_“Walls are built to keep us safe until they’re crashing down...”_

 

Finally! Some lyrics!

 

Like a man on a mission, Cas hurried back to the library, where he remembered Sam's laptop sitting on the table.

 

Settled in the seat, he opened up the screen and pushed the power button. He waited a few moments and when nothing happened, pushed it again. The screen remained dark and Cas huffed an annoyed breath. The charger was probably in Sam’s room and Cas didn’t want to interrupt the younger Winchester’s sleep for personal purposes.

 

Determined he would track down the song in the morning once Sam was awake, Cas pulled his book over from the other side of the table and settled into some deeper reading. However, by the time the sun rose and Sam’s charger emerged from his room, Cas had long forgotten the few simple words of the song.

  
  
  


The fifth time Cas heard the whistling was out of nowhere, during a random evening of an unimportant weekday.  

 

Before, Dean’s whistling always had a pattern. It was usually when everyone else was in their own rooms, doors shut, or out of the bunker completely. When there were no emergency errands to run or cases to solve. It was either on Saturdays or Sundays, when Dean had drunk a bit more beer than usual.

 

Now, though?

 

Now, Dean was making dinner in the kitchen, both Jack and Sam were home, and they intended to leave on a new case the very next day.

 

The rise and fall of the score almost seemed as though they were vibrating inside his head, and Cas immediately stood. Sam, across the table from him, snapped his head up, startled and concerned. Sam asked him what was wrong but Cas offhandedly brushed him off, busy dissecting the strange yet comforting urge to go to the whistling.

 

To go to _Dean._

 

Before he knew it, his feet landed him in front of the kitchen doorway and in plain sight. Dean looked up from his egg mixing, a grin overtaking his face the moment his eyes caught Cas’s.

 

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

 

Cas knew Dean wasn’t asking him what was going through his mind, or something he was recently doing. Dean was asking him why he was in the kitchen. Cas didn’t exactly want to admit he’d been creepily stalking Dean’s whistling. Panicked, he racked his brain for an unsuspicious explanation of why he stood there, other than confessing that his body seemed to be conditioned to seek out Dean every time he heard him whistle.

 

“I was, uh, hungry.”

 

Dean’s expression immediately changed to concern. Cas mentally smacked himself.

 

“What? Hungry?” Dean set the spoon down, brows furrowing. “Are you okay?”

 

“No, uh, not hungry. How do you say it again? The urge to just have something in your mouth?”

 

Dean’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline and Cas could feel himself becoming flustered.

 

What was he doing, being flustered? Actually, just in general, _what was he doing?_

 

“You want something in your mouth?” Dean’s look turned sly and he joked, “I could help with that.”

 

Cas’s brain stuttered. Was Dean flirting with him? “I mean, uh, I read somewhere humans sometimes have the urge to simply chew something. Like, snacks, or maybe gum.”

 

“Oh yeah, that.” Dean opened a cupboard and pulled out a bag of vinegar & salt flavoured chips, tossing them to Cas, who caught them nicely. “Here. They’re my favourite, and the last pack we’ve got, actually. I’ll have to buy some more before we hit the road.”

 

Cas dipped his head in thanks before leaving the room.

 

Out in the hallway, he stopped and looked at the crinkled plastic bag in his hands. What was he going to do with a bag of chips? And why did Dean give him the last pack of his favourite flavour? He does remember that all Cas could taste are molecules, right? Maybe he could just give them to Sam. Or maybe Jack. He doubted eating chips right before dinner was a good thing, so with a shrug, Cas began to make his way towards his own room. Dean had his own ‘emergency’ snacks after all.

  
  
  


The sixth and last time Cas heard the heartwrenching tune was when he least expected it, at the place where he least expected it.

 

Cas stood outside on the dirt, letting the pouring rain and the gloomy skies soak through his trenchcoat and mat his hair. The rain hit the ground in small thuds and the raindrops splattered on the leaves in small splashes.

 

He stood in the rain until he forgot how long has passed. The rain let up but his eyes didn’t, still trained and weary on the graves before him. Two stone crosses were stuck into the dirt at the head of the visible rectangular lines.

 

_Sam Winchester. Brother. Friend._

 

_Dean Winchester. Brother. Friend._

 

Some more time passed and Cas knew his feet should’ve begun to feel sore from standing for so long, but he couldn’t feel them. In fact, he couldn’t really feel anything.

 

His phone rang. Cas was surprised that it was still working after all the water it had probably taken in. He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. It had splotches of green under the glass and some of the pixels had burned out. Jack’s name card appeared, but the screen wasn’t responding to his touch anymore. Cas’s finger went to the volume button and picked up.

 

“Jack?”

 

Jack’s voice came through gurgled and distorted, but Cas could pick apart his words nonetheless. He could always pick apart his son’s words, and his heart flushed with pride. Son. He never got used to it, huh.

 

“Jody says that maybe I should stay with her a bit longer. That time away from the bunker might be good for me right now, and… I think I agree. Can I…?”

 

Cas responded immediately, “Of course, Jack. Whatever helps you and--”

 

“--What about--”

 

“--Don’t worry about me.”

 

Jack fell silent for a moment, and Cas almost thought that he had lost the call before Jack spoke up again.

 

“If you’re sure…”

 

“I promise. I’ll- I’ll be here. Keeping the bunker clean and tidy. Whenever you feel ready, Jack. Whenever you feel like you can come home, I’ll be waiting here.”

 

“Okay.” Jack breathed through the phone and Cas barely picked it up. “I’m going to go now. Love you, Cas.”

 

“I love you too,” Cas only just got out before the beeping that indicated the end of a call blared in his ear.

 

He sighed and returned to the bunker, his footprints in the dirt before the Winchesters’ graves evident for the next, at least, decade or so.

 

Cas hadn’t noticed his coat was already dry. He could still remember the last storm like it was yesterday (it wasn’t yesterday). Had he really been standing there for that long?

 

He glanced around the commons room. It was neat, just like how Sam had liked it. The books and lore were in proper order and the chairs were pushed in.

 

He walked to the kitchen. There wasn’t anything in the fridge, having been taken by Jack for his trip to Jody’s place, and the dishes had already been washed and put away. He turned away from the reminisce of Dean’s laughter behind him and the clinks of imaginary beer bottles.

 

He was in the hallway on the way to his room when he picked up on a sound.

 

_A melody._

 

A tune he hadn’t heard in so long. A familiar whistling that played with the delicate and fragile heartstrings in his chest. He stopped just before Dean’s doorway, like so many times before, just listening and reminiscing.

 

Hurting.

 

The door was completely wide open and--even though Cas logically knew there wasn’t anyone sitting on the bed, leaned back and relaxed, eyes closed and whistling like they were the most content they’d ever been in their life--a false hope consistently speared him.

 

Cas stepped through the doorway and immediately regretted it. The music startled to a stop as though it knew he was there, and instead, a deafening white noise began ringing in Cas’s ears.

 

The sound of vacuum.

 

The sound of _nothing._

 

Dean’s bed was made and untouched, his cherished weapons hung on the wall like mementos and keepsakes.

 

Out of nowhere, Cas remembered the one line of lyrics Dean had sung while whistling. Cas’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to relive the words. It was something like,

 

 _“...Walls are built to keep us--”_ something-something _“--until they’re--”_ something “-- _down...”_

Cas ran down to Sam’s room, silently apologizing for going through his things, before fishing out the tall man’s laptop and charger. He plugged them in and the computer booted up. Thankfully, he didn’t have a password set up and Cas went straight to searching.

  
  
  


Dean’s room was clean and tidy, his phone was fully charged and for once, he felt at peace with himself. None of that, inner turmoil that constantly flickered around his head. No, it was quiet, and perfect. Well, almost perfect.

 

His phone shuffled through his library of songs and soon, Dean was whistling along. The only noise that bounced around his room and out into the halls were him. He felt a pang in his heart but he didn’t have enough time to discern exactly what it meant before his phone went off with a message notification. He glanced down. It was from Sam.

 

_What is that noise?_

 

 _It’s a song, dumbass._ Dean shot back.

 

_That’s surprising, coming from you. What’s the song?_

 

Ignoring the roast, Dean hesitated before answering with a song title. His eyes flickered to his doorway before back onto his screen.

 

He couldn’t shake the feeling something was off. Like, really off.

 

_“Angel” by Theory of a Deadman. But something’s weird._

 

_Weird? What is?_

 

_I don’t know. Have you seen Cas? I can’t find him anywhere._

**Author's Note:**

> <33 i'd very happily accept criticism and feedback from anyone who would give!! hope y'all enjoyed!!
> 
> find me on tumblr!!: https://uselesstwink.tumblr.com/


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